


New Order

by Marusya



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: "criminal" past, And then freak out like crazy, Bad Afterlife Choices, Bad English, Bed Ingrish, Crack, Cranberry, F/M, Fade Bullshit, I Don't Know Where This Is Going, Modern Girl in Thedas, OC has zero fucks to give, Or at least she likes to think that, Or not, Russian Mafia, Stereotypes, Swearing in Russian, bad life choices, cliché as fuck, quoting Marx to Solas, stereotypical russian in Thedas, vodkamedvedbalalaika, КЛЮКВА
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marusya/pseuds/Marusya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I died, I thought I would ascend to heavens, rot in hell or just dissolve into oblivion. Instead I ended up in fantasy realm in some ancient tomb raided by a freakiest Dungeons'n'Dragons party ever. Who would have thought? Oh well, I hope I don't screw up this life as I did previous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Murder

Waking up was never easy for me. I’ve been waking up already tired for…well, since I was a child. I’ve always found myself in some weird pose in the morning, my back or neck or both aching, my head heavy and every muscle in my body sore. Yeah, sure, I’ve sought medical help, several times actually, but doctors only shrugged their shoulders or assumed it was stress (no shit, with my line of work it’s the inevitable hazard), because every test indicated that I was, at least physically, healthy. A  psychiatrist prescribed me some pills for this “atypical sleep disorder”, how he put it, but result, or rather absence of it, was predictable. Well, at least he assured me that I was not, in fact, mentally ill and suggested taking a long vacation or leave work at all for couple of months. That was never going to happen, how in the hell would I pay my rent? With my charming looks? Thanks for advice, but I would rather feel shitty every morning than be homeless.  
  
But this particular awakening was the absolute worst. Not only did I feel like I’d been repeatedly hit by a truck, but my mind was foggy and something was clearly wrong with my sight as well. My vision was blurry and distorted, like I had suddenly acquired a severe case of myopia which disturbed me greatly. Maybe taking a break was not such a bad idea after all, what if I got worse? I started to panic and rose abruptly. The pain was immediate - it felt like sharp needles were piercing every nerve in my body. I cried aloud and collapsed. My back hit something too hard for it to be my bed with the thud and impact resonated with a fresh wave of pain throughout body. A pathetic whimper escaped my throat. What _is wrong with me?  
  
_ Suddenly I realized that I was not alone. Muffled voices indicated someone was nearby. In fact, they were already present when I woke up, I just was too distracted to pay attention to them. _Where am I?_ Obviously, I wasn’t in my apartment, I’d been living alone since university and my bed was far softer than whatever I was laying on. What happened? Was I dying?  
  
I tried to recollect my memories and realization hit me like a punch in the stomach. _I was already dead_. I’m dead. Dead. My mother was right to worry; my profession did kill me. Was I a ghost now or something? Dull pain in my back reminded me of my corporeal status. When I tried to take deep breath I actually inhaled and felt my lungs fill with cool dump air. Afterlife maybe? I could not have possibly survived; no one survives taking a bullet to the head.  
  
_Searing agony in my abdomen. Heated metal in my guts. Hot blood streaming down as I fell on my knees. Soft click of a trigger. Bam! Nothing.  
_  
I felt a shiver run down my spine and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My breathing became ragged, I was hyperventilating, and my heart started to race - I was going into panic attack.  
  
Then a surprisingly logical thought crossed my mind. Why am I panicking _exactly_? The worst had already happened, what else could transpire? I was not religious at all. It was hard to believe in some divine intent facing bandits, murderers, and other human waste on daily basis. How can one know for sure what comes after death? I guess I was going to find out soon.  
  
I tried to sit up again, this time taking my time and proceeding slowly, relying on my hands. The voices became louder and clearer although words were still unrecognizable, and I heard something that sounded like clanking metal. I blinked several times and shook my head lightly brushing off remnants of my slumber.  
  
My vision slightly improved and I saw several figures around me, although I still could not discern them properly. I was in some dark rectangular room, walls decorated with elegant carvings,  and I was sitting on something that felt like a stone slab of some sort and wrapped in soft fabric. No wonder it hurt when I fell back on it. The discomfort in my body eased up and after a few moments, the blur in my eyes disappeared too and I was finally able to make out the strange people who were arguing rather loudly now.  
  
There were four of them and, _god_ , they looked strange. At first glance, they appeared to be human, but as I looked closer, they seemed weirder and weirder. I expected to see some ethereal beings in togas or, I don’t know, naked red demonic creatures with horns and tails, but none of them looked like that, not even remotely. If anything, they could pass as a cosplay group from some geek fest, dressed in armor and some medieval-ish garbs. Some of them looked surprisingly human, other…not so much. Moreover, all of them, except tall bald guy with pointed elongated ears - he really looked like an elf from fantasy stories (although I always pictured elves with gorgeous golden locks, but whatever), were pointing _swords_ right at me. I heard an all too familiar click of a trigger and trembled. A runty blond man was notching a bolt in his crossbow. I gulped nervously.  
  
“Нет, пожалуйста!” – I blurted out, raising my hands defensibly. I didn’t want to die again. Could I though? What if this was _hell_ , where I was doomed to be killed over and over again? My blood ran cold and I eyed the bald man pleadingly. He was staring at me, his eyes open wide, his face a mixture of surprise and curiosity.  
  
“Oh, she talks! Gibberish, but that’s something. Hey, Chuckles, can you translate?” – exclaimed the short blonde with the crossbow. English? What the… They spoke English but could not understand Russian? Maybe I missed the orthodox part of heaven accidentally. Or hell, for that matter…  
  
“The language she spoke was not _Elvhen_ , Master Thetras. I must admit I do not recognize this tongue at all” – calmly replied the bald dude, looking over my head and frowning a little. Did he say _Elvhen_? Does that mean that he is in fact an elf? Is the short guy a dwarf then? I opened my mouth to speak again but was interrupted by scowling woman in full plate with a sword in one hand and shield in another. Her weapons and armor looked so real, and her breastplate and a shield were covered in small scratches and dents. Her hair was cropped short and her jaw was marred with a long scar. The way she looked and her posture – _battle stance_ – told that she was a real deal and definitely not just a lady in a costume party. And oh, she was pissed.  
  
“It might be an abomination!” – the warrior woman yelled angrily, gesturing towards me with her sword. Was she talking about me? _An abomination_? How rude! Did I look that bad? I quickly forgot my hurt vanity as my gaze fell on the woman’s blade. It was sharp and polished, and _oh my god_ was that dried blood? I scooted back to the edge of a slab, frantically looking around the room searching for an escape route. Unfortunately, the room had only one exit and the lunatic, whose goal was clearly gutting me for no reason at all, was right in front of it. Shit.  
  
“Cassandra, she looks harmless” – the last one from this strange group grabbed the madwoman by the shoulder firmly. He was wielding a short blade and - there was a bow and a quiver strapped behind his back. His armor was made of what looked like leather and hide and his whole face was tattooed with some intricate pattern. He was wearing a hood that covered his head leaving only his face visible. “I think you scared the Void out of her” – his expression softened and he smiled encouragingly at me. Finally, a sane person!  
  
“ _Ir abelas. Andaran atish’an_ ” - The Tattoo-Face said slowly, stumbling over the words. The strangest thing was, I realized, that I understood them. How? That language was completely alien to me, and as far as my knowledge went, it didn’t sound like any language spoken at Earth. Was that _Elvhen_ they mentioned? At least Cassandra lowered her sword and didn’t look like she was going to run me through with it at any moment. She was still scowling and alarmed though.  
  
“Um..” I nervously stuttered “Are you sure this is a peaceful place? She doesn’t seem exactly peaceful to me” – I nodded towards Cassandra. The dwarf smirked at that. “Where am I anyway?” My voice sounded foreign, not completely different, but somewhat higher and more melodic.  
  
“So she does speak Common!” – I yelped and abruptly turned to the fifth person in this room who, it occurred, was standing behind my back this whole time.  
  
“Блять” – my voice was barely a whisper.  
  
It was an enormous beast, humanoid, but its skin was unnaturally gray and its head was adorned with huge bovine-looking horns. It was smirking at me sardonically, its only eye gleaming in the dark and the other covered with a patch. The monster was holding a huge-ass axe with one hand like it weighed no more than a feather.  
  
I was completely frozen. Oh, _what the fuck_! Where was I supposed to run anyway? I was surrounded - a tin woman with a blade ready blocked the only path. And even if I had managed to get past her, the dwarf would have stopped my escape with one good shot. Assuming I could run at all in my condition.  
  
_If I’m going to die again_ , I thought desperately, _I’m not going down without a fight, no matter the circumstances_. I clenched my fists and gathered what little strength I had, ignoring the pain and dizziness. I doubted that I could harm anyone of them, especially that Ogre with an axe. If only I had my gun…I cursed myself for not taking self-defense classes. I suddenly felt very angry, it practically boiled in me, angry at the universe, myself, that fucker who shot me, my fucking job and these freaks who are going to mutilate me with their primitive weapons. _Where is the promised rest in peace? –_ I thought bitterly, letting out a frustrated groan.I felt warm, almost feverish, the hair on the back of my neck rose as if I was exposed to weak electrical charge.  
  
“Mage!” – alarmed cry reached my ears. The Ogre gripped his axe tighter and moved towards me. I rolled off the slab, and scrambled to stand. Before I could even think of my next move, icy cold hand seized my forehead and everything went dark.  
  
**  
**

* * *

 

Russian translations:  
  
Нет, пожалуйста! - Please, no!  
  
Блять - Common curse. ("crap")


	2. Waiting for the Sirens' Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana is scary. Seriously. Where did that nice girl from Origins go?

I hate waking up. My head was hurting like a bitch and my limbs felt sluggish like I had been heavily oversleeping. However, this was different from my usual discomfort. This time I actually felt rested and pretty good if it weren’t for the headache. And the slackness of my hands and legs could be easily remedied with a half hour work-out. I felt so refreshed, so alive, I wondered. The irony was not lost one me - I actually felt better dead than while I was alive. Why was I still breathing though? Should not I be dead, smashed to pieces by that ox-man?  
  
I slowly opened my swollen eyelids. The flickering light of a single candle revealed to me a small room with stone walls and no windows. A crude wooden table stood against the wall accompanied by two stools. The bed, in which my body rested, was very simple too – straw mattress, burlap blanket and a hard pillow. I sat up in the bed, and massaged my temples, attempting to ease the headache.  
  
“Чтозахерня!” I exclaimed out loud. My hand accidently brushed my ear where there should not have been an ear  _at all_. I carefully examined my ear with my finger. The earlobe was not round and smooth as it should have been, but far too long and sharp. _Like the ears of that bald dude from before, what was his name? Cluckles? Cackles? Chuckles? Whatever._   _The elf_. I laughed aloud. What nonsense.

“So you are awake at last” – a soft feminine voice with what I guessed was a French accent sounded from the dark corner of the room. The owner of the voice emerged from the shadows. She was a woman with striking red hair, dressed in some ridiculous mail with a hood. Her face was very pretty, with gentle features. A pleasant smile was playing on her lips. I looked in her eyes and shuddered inwardly – they were cold as steel. I recognized the expression immediately – someone was going to be interrogated and seeing as there were only two of us in the room, that’d be me. Unless there was someone else lurking in the shadows or hiding under my bed.  
  
I sighed quietly. It was not going to be my first interrogation, although I’ve never been in such position before. Dead and not knowing where I am or  _what_  I am. Well, there’s a first time for everything, right? I’d never lost my cool during questioning before and I was not going to do it then.    
  
I sat up straight on the bed, maintaining eye contact with the Redhead.  
  
“Where am I?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and even, pushing all my nervousness aside.  
  
“You speak Common but I can’t place your accent” – for a second time someone referred to English as “Common”. First time it was that gray-skinned monstrosity, and now this woman. And as far as I knew, almost anyone could guess my ethnicity by my accent. I had little practice actually speaking English and my Russian pronunciation was rather prominent.  
  
“It is not my native tongue” I replied slowly, not willing to share any personal information just yet. Anyway, I needed to test the waters, try her patience to see exactly how far she was willing to go to drag information out of me. Of course, it was risky and I could end up beaten or  _tortured_  – the last prospect unnerved me greatly. I was going to spill my beans the moment things get heated, what’s the point to withhold anything if I’m already dead? Not like I could endure torture anyway.  
  
“That much is obvious,” The smile on her face grew wider, and her eyes became even colder. Oh crap, she’s one of those ones. The ones who enjoyed playing with the subject, viewing interrogation as some sort of elaborate game. I would have to be very careful with her, and give her as little as possible. She would then retreat to veiled threatening or to offering me something. Carrot and stick.  
  
I remained silent so she was forced either to ask me another question or answer mine. She chose asking.  
  
“What is your name?”  
  
I decided to give her my first name, but not last or patronymic. First names held little value without last two.  
  
“Vera” – I said simply.  
  
“Remarkably plain for an  _elf_ ”  
  
“It is what it is” - I shrugged “Sorry for not meeting your expectations. Would you prefer a false, but fancy name over a simple, but true?”  
  
“No” – she grinned once again, showing her white teeth “Honesty would be better for both of us.  _Especially_  for you”.  
  
There you go. Threats. I felt a burst of confidence. Of course, being threatened was nothing to be elated about, but, although this woman was good at her job, she could still be read and her moves were predictable.  
  
“I am Sister Leliana, the Nightingale” – she narrowed her eyes slightly. She was clearly expecting some sort of reaction at her revelation. Neither the title, nor the name was familiar to me, so I decided to go with neutral politeness.  
  
“Pleased to make your acquaintance” - I said, giving her a slight nod.  
  
Her eyes narrowed even more, turning into slits. Crap. I fucked up.  _Big time_. My lack of reaction was reaction on its own, apparently. Clearly, her name must have carried some weight and should have provoked some sort of response. Possibly fear or respect at very least. And I just gave up the fact that I’m obliviously not from around here. This only added to my headache.  
  
I needed to assess the situation and get my shit together. What did I know? This certainly was not heaven or hell or any other religious bullshit. Why would divine or unholy creatures need to interrogate me? They were supposed to know more about me than my own mother. But I had died, that I knew for certain too. My appearance had changed along with my voice. My ears did for sure. So, I was either transported after my passing to another dimension – a little far-fetched scenario, but shit here was weird – all that Elvish bullshit and swords, or the more logical explanation, albeit even less pleasant – I went completely nuts, and everything, including my death, was a deliberate delusion. Although, it felt too real for a hallucination, too tangible.  
  
Either way, I decided to hang on to my cautious position in this game. Talking openly with delusions was a bad strategy. I let out a small sigh. I was fucked anyway.  
  
“Might I know now where am I, since we seem to get along so fine so far?” I asked, pressing out of myself a small smile of my own. I was so not in the mood for smiling. If anything, I wanted to scream at this redheaded bitch and probably punch some walls. Disregard that – walls here were made of  _freaking_  stone.  
  
“Skyhold” – she folded her arms across her chest. “But, I take it, that doesn’t mean anything to you?”  
  
“No, it does not”. No point in denying what she already knew.  
  
“Where are you from then?” Oh, that was the tricky question. It did not matter if I told the truth if this was a construct of my sick mind. However, if I indeed were somewhere else, the truth could be too dangerous. I was lingering with my answer for too long, I could see the suspicion rising. I needed to come up with answer until I lose all credibility.  
  
“I don’t know what my home is called in… Common tongue” I shook my head. That was a lie, and I needed to water it down with some truth, to make it easier for my interrogator to swallow. “I was born in the plains in the south” I did hope they had plains _. In the south_.  
  
She nodded, contemplating my answer. Then she smiled one more time and this time her smile actually touched her eyes.  
  
“I appreciate your” –  _cooperation_ – “honesty. I will send someone with food and fresh clothing.” My brow furrowed. “Please,” she continued, “It’s only fair, since we’re getting along so well” She chuckled lightly.  
  
And here came the carrot.  _Yay?_  
  
“I will see you later, Vera” – she added, her voice growing firmer. This was not just a common courtesy, but a promise. This meant she was not yet done with me. With that, she walked out the room, door closing behind her. I managed to catch a glimpse of two figures standing in the corridor or hall. Guards. Metal clanging announced the not only guarded, but locked as well. I was not going anywhere anytime soon, it seemed.  
  
“Сука” – I groaned in frustration. My head still felt like it was going to cleave in two. I lay back on the rough bed, waiting for whatever came next.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> "Что за херня?" - "What the fuck?"
> 
> "Сука" - bitch (in this context should be understood as "son of a bitch" or "crap")


	3. I've Got a Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theories, headaches and magic.

I stared at my bare feet, lying flat on the bed. I was wearing creamy white dress, which reminded me an awful lot of some sort of a burial shroud. _Ugh_. However, that wasn’t the most disquieting issue. After a brief examination of myself, I realized that not only had my ears changed, but pretty much everything else as well. As far as I could tell, my height remained approximately the same - I was still a shorty, but apart from that everything was different. Even my skin was a tone darker. My physique had changed too – I was never fat, but now I was downright thin.    
  
The other thing I noticed was that, well, I had breasts. Not that I hadn’t had them before, but let’s be honest here, my chest was almost flat all my life. I curiously poked one of them. _They were real and they were mine._ They could not be called large by any stretch of the imagination, but compared to what was there before (or rather, what _wasn’t_ there) it was a huge improvement.   
  
There was no mirror in this room, which I started calling a “ _prison cell_ ” in my mind, and I had no way to know what my face looked, so I had to rely on my tactile perceptions. I slowly ran my fingertips across my face, trying to determine the features of my face. My efforts were not very productive – the only thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t look the same as I had.   
  
I sighed aloud, from both frustration and a nagging pain in my forehead. This headache was getting on my nerves, and I had nothing else to do to distract myself from it. Maybe I had hit my head. Or was hit. It was possible, since I was out like the light during who knows how much time. I probed my skull with my fingers, looking for bumps or bruises. A strand of dark hair fell in front of my eyes from my prodding. Seemed I wasn’t blonde anymore either. I suddenly turned very wistful, feeling alien to myself. I had never thought that I would grow weary of the way I looked, even all my imperfections, old scars, dammit; I almost missed my nonexistent bosom. _Almost_.  
  
On the bright side, living in an unfamiliar body was better than being dead. By this point, I had convinced myself that I indeed was somehow transported to another realm or rather another dimension. I’d read a shitload of science fiction about parallel worlds, and it made sense in a way. It explained why people here spoke English, and why Leliana and that angry armored woman looked normal, looked human. It was like straight out of some novel,  a different plane of existence, similar to ours, but with some discrepancies. This theory also covered the question of the existence of elves and whatever other fairy tale beings inhabited this world – we only had them in stories, but those stories might have originated from another world, from here. Some other unfortunate dimensional traveler could have brought these tales to Earth from his home. I had little knowledge about quantum physics and such, but I knew that the multiverse hypotheses was supported by various credible scientists and was plausible at the very least.  
  
The prospect of exploring a new world and its wonders cheered me up a bit, although I could not explore much being locked up in a room without windows. _Yet_. I firmly set my mind to getting myself out of here. Whether through diplomacy or bullshiting, it didn’t matter. I must admit, I had always felt a bit sad that there was nothing left to discover on Earth - almost every corner of the world was already thoroughly investigated and we were not advanced enough to properly move onto space travel. And now I had the opportunity to explore this strange new world, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no Earthen woman had gone before.  
  
Wincing, I rubbed my forehead. My palm felt soothingly cool against my skin. If only this fucking headache would go away… Strangely, just as I thought that, the throbbing pain inside my skull disappeared as if it was never there. Baffled, I stared at my hand. It was glowing with soft, already fading blue light. My jaw fell agape. The glow vanished after a few seconds, and my palm returned to its normal state. _What the hell was that?!_ I wiggled my fingers a bit. Nothing happened. My head felt completely fine. No trace of pain or any discomfort – it was gone as if by magic. _Magic_. Elves and scary horned monsters were real here, so why would not magic be?   
  
I needed to test my theory, to find out if I had some magical powers. I briefly thought about trying to summon fire, but disregarded it after a quick consideration. It could draw attention from guards or, more importantly, I could accidentally fry myself to crisp.  
  
I stood up from the bad and started pacing around anxiously. What could I try? I came up with no relatively safe ideas. And after all, I had no idea how magic worked or wasn’t even one hundred percent sure it existed.   
  
With an impatient groan, I decided to try healing again. I had no injuries to test on around, so I had to actually hurt myself before proceeding with the experiment. Of course, my captors had not left me a knife in this room, so I had to come up with alternative methods of inflicting some minor wound upon my persona. I dug my nails in the back of my hand, leaving a couple of small crescent shaped scratches. Then I placed my palm upon damaged skin. It seemed that my thoughts triggered my magic previously, so I concentrated on thinking how I want to get rid of these self-inflicted scratches and imagined my skin mending, leaving no traces of the injuries.  
  
I had very little faith that it would work, but as soon as I started picturing my hand completely undamaged, my palm began to glow again, leaving a cool sensation. I felt something stirring within me, some kind of energy flowing under my skin. It was a strange feeling, as if I suddenly was able to feel my blood flow. Whatever little pain these tiny cuts brought, dissipated shortly. I lifted my hand, uncovering completely healed skin. _Good as new.  
  
_ I let out an awed gasp. I had magic.   
  
Seriously, how _awesome_ was that?  
  
I squeaked excitedly. The possibilities were amazing. What else could I do? Telekinesis? I stared at the stool, furrowing my brow in concentration, imagining the piece of furniture slowly taking off the floor. Nothing. It had not moved even by millimeter. Levitation was off the table too, sadly.  
  
Okay…what else?   
  
The room was very poorly lit. In fact, single candle should have given me barely enough light only to not trip over something, however I could see rather clearly in this semidarkness. Strange. Maybe my sight got sharper too?  
  
When I healed myself, there was a blueish glow covering my hand. What if I tried to summon just the light? I outstretched my arm, repeating the same procedure as before, but now picturing a glow emanating from my palm.   
  
A small ball of glimmering white light spawned and rested in my hand. It was softly illuminating the room, casting shadows on the floor and walls. I willed it closer to me to examine. It weighed nothing, and produced no heat. I took the shining sphere with both hands and the light grew stronger. I could not help but giggle and smile happily like a child playing with a new toy. This was _so_ amazing.   
  
I grinned. I not only got a free breast enlargement, but also would never need a flashlight again. Not ro mention I could cure myself from hangovers. _Neat_.   
  
This was turning out not so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos!


	4. Shame of the Nation

I toyed with my newfound powers for a while, summoning and dispelling little glowing spheres. After some practice, I managed to change the color of their light to different colors. Blue, green and even pink orbs appeared and disappeared in my hands. Damn, I could be rocking it at the parties.  
  
Eventually I got bored fiddling with it, but before I could think of some other magic tricks, the door to my chamber flung open and several people walked in. Two sturdy men, wearing the type of clothes I’ve only seen in museums and historical movies, went first, carrying a large tub, filled with hot water, judging by the steam that was pouring out of it. Groaning, they placed the tub near the table and rushed out the room, giving me cautious glances.  
  
As soon as they were out, two women dressed in the same medieval fashion entered; one of them handled me a batch of clothing and a hard soap. Before I could mumble my thanks, she fled the room as if it was on fire, leaving me standing with my mouth open. Maybe I was looking _that_ bad, I had no idea. I really needed a mirror.  
  
The second woman sighed and shook her head. There were tiny wrinkles in the corners of her eyes and her chestnut hair was touched by silver. She looked at me and gave me a sympathetic smile.  
  
“I apologize for Elise’s behavior, gossip travels fast around serving staff.” – she snorted a little, “Especially if it’s ludicrous. As if the Herald would keep someone dangerous here and not in the cells”. _The Herald_. Quite a title. Is he the boss here? Was he one of the people who I saw when I woke up?  
  
“They’re _scared_ of me?”  
  
“Well, yes, the Inquisitor personally brought you to Skyhold and placed you under watch. Then the Spymaster _herself_ paid a visit!” – she explained, “And that creepy apostate tended to you while you were unconscious. He’s a _demon_ expert, or so I’ve heard!” – she added in half-whisper.  
  
The Spymaster must have been my redheaded interrogator from before. The Inquisitor? Apostate? _Demons_? Where the fuck was I? The situation was so surreal, I felt like I was tossed right into the Monty Python and the Holy Grail movie. But this whole place and its inhabitants seemed like a Middle Age Europe, maybe they did burn witches on the stakes too. My heart fell when I realized that if I had magic, then _I_ was the witch. I swallowed hard and shivers ran down my spine.    
  
“Oh Maker, did I scare you? You are so pale!” – Great, at least now I knew the name of a god they worshipped here and in whose honor I would fry on a bonfire. “Don’t worry, you poor thing, that elf is weird, even for a mage, but Herald of Andraste trusts him and so must we.” She said in a soothing tone. I was immediately relieved, not by her assurance about mysterious elf-mage, but by the fact that said mage was alive and not burned to crisp. Moreover, it seemed that Herald person, who obviously held a great amount of authority, trusted him.  
  
“Now, dear, we’ve wasted enough time talking. The Inquisitor wants to see you, and you can’t appear in front of his Worship looking like you crawled out of the grave” – she said with a smile, gesturing to my attire. I could not suppress the smirk at the metaphor she chose.  
  
She took my appreciation of the irony of her words as approval, and without further ado, ignoring my protests, stripped me naked. She helped me bathe, which was a bizarre experience, since I’ve been taking baths on my own for almost thirty years. I felt extremely uncomfortable, being naked in front of a stranger, but the woman seemed completely unfazed and only chuckled lightly at my attempts to cover my shame. I didn’t know even her name, for fuck’s sake! That’s why I never went to public baths or saunas, this was so embarrassing. To be honest, I had huge doubts that I could manage bathing and dressing up myself properly without help or it would took enormous amount of time, and I had no intention to make someone bearing the title of the Inquisitor wait, so I had to swallow my pride and just let the woman do her job. To her credit, she seemed to notice my distress, and handled me with great care and delicacy, especially when brushing and braiding my long hair into a tidy braid.  
  
“There you are, all’s done.” – she gave me a critical look and then nodded, satisfied with her work. I was dressed in simple woolen tunic, deerskin leggings and heavy leather boots. The last were too large for me, but it would do. Better than trudge around bare-footed.  “I wonder how you would look in a proper dress. You’re such a pretty young lady!” Pretty? I couldn’t say that I haven’t heard a single compliment in my life, in fact I’ve heard plenty, especially if something was needed out of me, but speaking without fear or favor, my exterior could be described as “unremarkable”. The only thing that stood out about me was the color of my eyes, and everyone thought assumed that I wear contact lenses to spice up my otherwise undistinguished look.  
  
“Thank you” – I responded, her seemingly sincere praise brought a smile to my face. “And for your help too”.  
  
“Oh, that’s nothing; I’m simply doing my job”- she waved off. “And you remind me of my Emma, she was just as shy as you are. And just as beautiful.” – her eyes became distant as she smiled sadly. She seemed to be a nice woman, a kind one, and the sorrowful expression that appeared on her face made my heart clench with all too familiar tight pain and guilt. I could not count how many times I’ve seen the same look of woe and loss and I knew that any words, especially from someone like me, would feel worthless. Was my mother mourning me? I knew she was, she loved me greatly, despite the fact that I was an awful daughter and only brought disappointment. If only I listened to her for once and did not entangle myself in all that shit that got me killed, if not for my sake, but to spare her from pain. My poor mom always was so worried because of me…  
  
“I’m sorry” – I mumbled. “I’m sorry for your loss, I..” I stuttered, “Forgive me, I don’t know your name” – my compassion sounded completely fake and I felt disgusted from the official and flat tone of my voice.  
  
The poor woman looked at me, tears in her eyes, and I prepared myself to receive the well-deserved shouting and curses, but instead she grabbed me in her arms and hugged me tightly. I was completely stunned from her sudden embrace, and just stood lamely not knowing what to do. She released me from her arms, wiping tears with the sleeve of her dress.  
  
“Thank you, dear” – she whispered. “You’re a kind soul, a rare thing in these troubled times” I was completely repulsed with myself, a nauseating lump formed in my throat.  
  
“Adelie, my name is Adelie” – she said gently. “Come, I’ve held you up long enough with my babbling. Lady Cassandra won’t be pleased with me. She told me to get things done as fast as possible, not to get chatty.” _Cassandra_ , the warrior bitch from before. There was no way I’d let crazy pants lash out on this poor woman.  
  
“I won’t tell anyone” – I assured her. In fact, I would tell that the delay was my fault or I was acting whimsically, because the water in the tub was too hot or something, if needed. Adelie nodded in understanding but then looked at me expectedly. Oh, I realized, I didn’t tell her my name. _Manners_ , I scolded myself, being dead doesn’t mean you can behave like an uncultured cattle.  
  
“Vera, nice to meet you, Adelie” – I amended quickly, feeling my cheeks reddening.    
  
“Well, let’s go, Vera, time to meet the Inquisitor” – she said cheerfully, as she escorted me through the door, gripping my elbow.  
  
_“Well”,_ I thought grimly, _“at least someone’s excited about it.”_


	5. Procession

Adelie led me through halls and corridors of the castle, two armored men, who had been guarding the door to my room, followed us closely. They were clad in heavy plate mail, swords clasped to their belts. I briefly wondered what kind of swords they were carrying. I had little knowledge about swords and cold weapons in general, in fact I could only tell from looking at a blade if it is illegal to keep it without license and that’s all. Also, I heavily suspected that the only way I was going to see their blades unsheathed – I barely managed to suppress a snort at the unintended innuendo – if they were going to stick them into me. And managed to make it even dirtier. Good job, Vera, thinking about dicks while possibly being escorted into execution. I sighed; I didn’t even have my last meal. Though, at that moment my last supper would consist entirely of huge amounts of alcohol, if I had any say in it.  
  
Adelie opened another door and I, along with my convoy, stepped into a huge hall. It was truly magnificent, I had to throw my head back to see the ceiling, stone walls were decorated with tapestries and curtains. On a raised platform stood a throne, in front of the intricate stained-glass window. Tables and benches were posted along the walls. The hall was flooded with people, wearing luxurious outfits and shining masks. They paid no attention to us as we crossed it, and entered what appeared to be a cabinet or a study of some sort. I had no chance to look around it properly, as my guide dragged me through yet another door. There was a huge hole in the outer wall of the passage we entered and rubble was scattered around the floor. I let out an awed gasp when I saw the view that opened from the hole.  
  
The mountains.  
  
I’ve never seen mountains before – at least with my own eyes, and it seemed that the castle – _Skyhold_ – was right in the middle of a mountain ridge. It was breathtaking, small clouds scratched the slopes of the highest peaks, clear blue sky above them.  
  
Adelie insistently pulled me forward and I had no other choice but follow with the heavy sigh. At least, if I were going to die anytime soon – again - I would have something to discuss sitting on a cloud. Who knows, what if that’s all they talk about in heaven – the mountains – and how wonderful they are. Of course, if I would actually go to heavens, which whole existence is disputable.  
  
The elder woman shoved me into the last door without ceremonies and promptly closed it behind me, leaving me staring dumbfounded at its wooden surface. I turned around.  
  
There were five people standing around large table, a map was laying on it. I recognized four of them, the bald elf, Cassandra, Leliana and the Tattoo Face. The last one was a tall, handsome blonde man; he looked like he stepped out of the fairy tale about noble princes and beautiful princesses. He even wore a rather shiny armor. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword and he was eyeing me warily. Was he the mysterious Inquisitor?  
  
“ _Savhalla_ , Vera. It’s Vera, right?” – The Tattoo Face said and smiled a little. He wasn’t wearing a hood this time and I had a good look at his face. Despite the fact his skin was covered with tattooed branches, it was obvious that he was young, in early twenties. His raven black hair was chopped short in the middle and shaven down to a stubble at sides, leaving pointed ears unhidden. He was an elf too, I realized.  
  
“ _On dhea’him_ ” – I responded, unfamiliar words easily rolling of my tongue. It was so strange, as if I was speaking Russian, my native language, I didn’t even have to think about it. How could I speak the language I had never ever heard before? “ _Emma melin_ Vera _. Ahr mar melin, ela ar dirth_?” I continued automatically in what I assumed was Elvish. This was so surreal.  
  
The Tattoo Face rapidly turned a deep shade of red and glanced towards the Bald Head.   
“She asked your name, Inquisitor.” – The Bald Head replied, his corner of his mouth curling upwards a little. The Tattoo Face was the Inquisitor?  
  
“Please, speak Common. We all know you can.” – Leliana stated, giving me a cold glare.  
  
“Извините.” – I stuttered. All five of them stared at me, the bald elf looking at me with an unconcealed curiosity. “Блять,” – I muttered under my nose and cleared my throat. I was so dazed with the discovery of my new linguistic knowledge that I switched to Russian automatically. “I’m sorry. I’m extremely confused.” – I responded to the five amused pairs of eyes.  
  
“Oh,” – the Tat.. the Inquisitor casted a concerned look at me. “I’m Sahren of clan Lavellan. Your confusion was expected but I assure you, we mean no harm.” He said with conviction. “But we need to know _who_ you are” – he continued seriously. “Are you _Elvhen_? From Arlathan?” – he asked. _Arlathan_? Seemed like a name of some place, a country or a city, perhaps?  “This place of love”… very poetic. It could be the homeland of elves, I thought, seeing how hopeful and desperate looked Sahren, as if he wished for me to confirm his assumptions. It would have been easy to fool him into believing that I was one of his compatriots, to warm myself into his confidence. All questions could be evaded by inventing some sort of excuse why I have no actual knowledge about my supposed homeland. Memory loss for example.  
  
I sighed. Of course, bullshitting seemed the reasonable way of ensuring my safety, but I would eventually slip, they‘ve already heard me speaking Russian. Also, looking at Sahren, so open and full of hope, I just couldn’t lie into his face. People said that my kind have no conscience, but I had not fallen that low to assume false identity to save my own hide. Moreover, these people hadn’t harmed me yet, and behaved perfectly civil, despite the primitive surroundings, and deserved benefit of a doubt. After all, they had magic here; maybe they would not react violently to my confession. Of course, some facts of my life must had been omitted, some things were better left buried.  
  
“I’m not sure who you think I am” – I started carefully, - “but I think you’re dead wrong. I’ve never heard of Arlathan before.” – Sahren looked shocked, his jaw hung open. Leliana, Cassandra and Prince Charming exchanged glances, and visibly tensed. The Bald Head tilted his head to the side a little and narrowed his eyes, staring at me intently. He looked positively intrigued.  
  
“What?” – managed to gasp Sahren. “How..? Solas believes you are not demon…”  
  
“He can be wrong, Insuisitor” – hissed Cassandra, giving me murderous glare. “Abominations and demons can be deceitful, she appear harmless, but you can’t trust a word she says. She must be dealt with at once, before…” Cassandra’s rant was cut off by a bald elf, who glanced at her coolly.  
  
“I’m rarely wrong, Seeker, especially about what considers spirits” – he remarked coldly, frowning a little. “I’m positive that her nature is not of the Fade, though her connection to it is remarkable.” – he stated in a tone that denied any challenge.  
  
“I have no idea what the “Fade” is, but I’m pretty sure I’m not from there too” – I nodded in response. “And I’ve been called many names but “demon”…well, that’s new”.  
  
“What are you then?” – demanded the Prince, leaning on the table. “And speak plainly, we’ve got no time for your games, elf” – he said with a note of finality.  
  
“I have a name, you know” – I spat angrily. I turned to the Inquisitor, as he seemed to be the main authority here. I wasn’t going to waste my breath on side-kicks.  
  
“It’s hard to explain what happened to me, as I’m not sure myself” – I glanced at the map, it was difficult to see what it actually portrayed from my angle, but the outline of a continent or a country was, as I suspected, completely unfamiliar to me.  
  
“Would you believe if I say that I came from a different world? A parallel reality of sorts” – I continued, keeping my voice calm and steady.  
  
“You claim to originate from another realm? This is nonsense!” – exclaimed Cassandra in disbelief. “The only other plane is the Fade, the world of demons.” She spoke with such conviction about demons; I started to think maybe here they were as real as magic and elves. The others looked at me with a mix of distrust and curiosity.  
  
“If I was going to lie, I would’ve invented more believable story” – I noted, sighing. “Listen, I know how it sounds, I wouldn’t believe it myself. But it’s the truth – I died in my world and woke up _here_ , for whatever reason. Or maybe it’s just my bad luck.” – I smiled sadly. “Anyway, there is no demons in my world. Only metaphorical ones. And no magic or” – I pointed to my ears, “ _elves_. They only exist in stories there, so imagine my surprise.”  
  
“No elves? What were you then? And what are you doing here?” – Sahren questioned me passionately.  
  
“Human – one head, two hands, two legs. Perfectly round ears.” – I answered, shrugging. “As for my intents, I have no intent even to be _here_ , not to mention having some long-term plans.”  
  
“This is not improbable.” – intervened Solas. “Breach may weaken not only the Veil, but the barriers between realities, too. And the existence of other worlds is not unthinkable. Your Maker have to reside _somewhere_. Maybe this world is not only his creation.” The sarcasm in his words was subtle, but I noticed how his tone changed from neutrally calm to somewhat annoyed when he spoke about “the Maker”.  
  
“When her spirit departed from her body, it could have been sucked into our world and it found the appropriate vessel.” – he continued, clasping his hands behind his back. “And we happened to stumble upon her awakening in this body.” He gave a sharp nod to me.  
  
“So, she _is_ possessing it?” – asked the Prince malignantly.  
  
“Involuntarily!” – I inserted desperately.  
  
“Not in traditional sense, no.” – Solas ignored my remark. “I sense no second entity in her body, not even traces of it, which would be present in case of possession. In my studies of Elvhenan, I’ve learned that it was not uncommon for ancients in _uthenera_ to perish during their slumber. Seems that the original owner of this body left long ago, although why it didn’t deteriorated along with it, I cannot say.”  
  
I had nothing to say about his theory, mainly because I had no fucking idea _what_ he was talking about. However, the elf sounded so sure of himself, he was speaking calmly, smiling softly to himself, as if he was lecturing some students on some mundane subject, and not discussing the details of body possession.  
  
“That’s an intriguing story” – spoke Leliana, who, I realized, kept quiet the whole discussion. “But how can we know it’s true, before we decide what to do with her?”  
  
Solas' smile grew a bit wider and he turned his head in my direction, and looked right into my eyes as if he can see right through me.  
  
“Ah, I believe I have just the idea.”  
  
I shivered under his gaze. I suddenly regretted my straightforwardness. Whatever he was planning for me, it wasn’t something pleasant, my gut told me.  
  
_Пиздец._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish translations, taken from Fenxshiral's works:
> 
> Savhalla - Hello  
> On dhea’him - Good day  
> Emma melin Vera. Ahr mar melin, ela ar dirth? - My name is Vera. What is your name, can I know? (constructed and, probably, butchered)
> 
> Russian
> 
> Извините - Sorry  
> Блять - "well, shit"  
> Пиздец - in this case, "I am sooooooo fucked"


	6. Sugarcane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The exact height of Ostankino tower is 540.1 metres.

They shared meaningful looks and Sahren gave a quick nod to Cassandra. Obeying the silent order, she roughly grabbed me by the shoulder and forced me out. Again, I was dragged through halls, back to my room. I was tempted to poke Cassandra with questions regarding my fate, but as I opened my mouth to voice them, she gave me a look that prompted me to shut up at once. Damn that woman. She had a chip on her shoulder the size of the friggin’ Ostankino tower. I wondered if she was so bitchy ‘cause she couldn’t get laid or it was her general attitude, although I was not crazy enough to ask. This wasn’t the right time to be a smartass, so the issue of Cassandra’s sexual life had to remain a mystery.  
  
She all but shoved me back to the room I was getting used to call mine and I was left alone with my thoughts. What were they going to do with me? _To me_? These people wanted proof of my otherworldly origin, but I had no idea how Solas was going to get it. The only evidence I could have presented was my knowledge of Russian – it seemed no one knew of it. However, that could be because Russian (or whatever it was called here) was native to the other region somewhere far away. After all, they all did speak English.  
  
If I was an engineer, I could show them designs of some machinery from back home (and cause technological revolution along the way), but I was disappointedly humanitarian in my erudition. Of course, I could teach them how to make a gun and simple explosives, but on one hand, they could already know of black powder and have some primitive firearms, and on another…well, in my attempts to save my worthless _already_ dead ass I could give them a significant advantage in a warfare and turn around the course of history. I had no idea if these people – the Inquisition – were currently in a state of war with someone, but hey, the purpose of the organization with _that_ name just could not be picking flowers or helping old ladies cross roads. If this Inquisition was anything like the Europeans had, there was no chance in hell I was going to arm them. No fucking way I was going to help religious fanatics get better in oppressing people.  
  
Would they torture me for information? I thought no, the problem was not to get me talking, but to find something that they could believe in. Honestly, I was surprised that Inquisitor and his buddies were so forth-coming, I was prepared to a different reaction, something like “Okay, she’s bat shit crazy, put her in asylum”. The whole truth, I hoped for that – it’s always easier to escape mental institution if you are not actually crazy. And I was willing to bet that mentally unstable was handled into loving arms of local religious institutions, which are not so different from nuthouses, if you think about it. I guess, I owed one to Solas for that, he was amazingly reasonable and thorough with his theories.  
  
I was lost in my thoughts when someone knocked on the door and before I could respond, Adelie literally waltzed into the room with a beaming smile, carrying a tray with food. She put it on the table turned to me.  
  
“Vera, sweetling, I’ve no time to chat tight now, but how was the Inquisitor? I’ve never actually talked to him!” – she chirped happily.  
  
“Charming”- I grumbled, not even trying to hide my sarcasm.  
  
“Of course he was! He’s blessed by Andraste herself, a hero to save us all!” – she continued in her annoyingly cheerful tone. “Have you seen Commander Cullen? He’s so handsome!” – she gave me a playful wink.  
  
“Commander Cullen? Blonde, tall, armor, a scar on his lip?” – I inquired. “He hadn’t introduced himself.” _Too busy being an asshole_.  
  
Adelie let out a girlish giggle.  
  
“He was probably shy in a company of such pretty girl like you are. Was he blushing like a young maiden?” Well, his face was somewhat flushed, but I’d rather say that it was “murderous rage” red, not “blushing cause I’m into you” red. “He was a Templar, you know” – she continued in hushed whisper. No, I didn’t know even what a Templar is. “Some say he’s a virgin!” Seriously? I was starting to see a pattern here. How nicer this world would be if Cassandra and Cullen just helped each other…  
  
“I must hurry off now” – Adelie sighed sadly. I smiled at her, she surely liked to gossip. “You better eat everything down to the last crumble, young lady! You’re thin as rake!” – she urged, shaking her head in disapproval.  
  
I wanted to protest or to leave a snarky comment on that, but I bit my tongue instead. From what I knew, Adelie recently lost a child, and was just re-directing her motherly instincts on me and I wasn’t that much of cold hearted bitch to snap at grieving woman. She needed distraction, so be it.  
  
“Thanks, Adelie, I will” – I promised.  
  
“Good girl” – she smiled back to me and left.  
  
It turned that I was going to make good on my promise anyway – I was _famished_. The meal was modest in itself, only slightly better than prison rations, but I was so hungry I had finished it in a couple of moments. The fact that I ate porridge so fast was an evidence of how empty my stomach was – I always hated porridge with everything that I am. Porridge was pretty high on my “absolute evils of the world” list and I had never thought that would willingly swallow even a bit of it. Guess hunger doesn’t leave room to be picky.  
  
After I was done with food, I settled on the bed. Pleasantly heavy stomach was interfering with my line of thought, and I quickly slipped into some meaningless and absurd thinking, contemplating the possibilities of dalliance between Cassandra and Cullen, wondering if Solas was bald due to natural reasons or it was a preference, speculating how long I would endure on porridge before I slit my wrists and other nonsense.  
  
I didn’t even notice when the sleep claimed me.


	7. Dreams Never End

Someone was banging relentlessly on my door. _Thud-thud-thud_. Who in blazes could that be in the middle of the night? I groaned and scrambled from the coach, setting the papers I’d been working on aside.   
  
Unknown and unwelcomed visitor seemed to grow impatient and slammed the door again.  
  
“Volkova!” – he shouted from the behind the door. Oh crap, not this shit again. “Volkova, damn you, open up! I know you are not sleeping!” Why me, why _always_ me? It was obvious from his slurred words that this fucktard was drunk as hell. I stepped to the door, there was no way I was going to let him in, and I had no time and mood for this right now.   
  
“What do you want?” – I yelled.  
  
“It’s me, open up!” – he stuttered, crashing my poor door with his fist again. It trembled under his drunk strength. I rubbed my forehead tiredly.  
  
“I _know_ it’s you, Misha.” – I grunted. I had no need to look into the peephole to know it’s him, I would recognize this idiot anywhere from his voive alone. “What the fuck, man? What’s your problem, bothering me at this ungodly hour? Go home, Olya must be worried sick.”  
  
“She kicked me out!” – he announced, his voice sounded hurt and somewhat confused at the turn of events. No surprise, really, even I could not tolerate when he was drunk, big guy could not hold down his liquor for shit. I always joked that Misha needed only to sniff the cork to get wasted. “Shit, the party was awesome, it’s sad you didn’t’ go, all the important dudes were there, you know, from the very top!”   
  
“Mikhail, go away and beg your wife for forgiveness or I’m calling the cops.” – I said seriously. “Or my neighbors will.” – I added, even if everyone in my building knew who we were and would never even think to call the cops in this situation. Anyway, this was embarrassing and I didn’t want to disturb anyone.  
  
“Ha!” – he giggled stupidly. “And what are they going to do? _Arrest me_? As if!” – Misha laughed and I joined him cackling at the absurdity of it, there was a snowball’s chance in hell he was going to get cuffed.   
  
I smiled softly, I missed him so much, our bickering, the way he always cared for me, like an older brother I never had. _Wait..._  
  
He couldn’t be here. We buried him three years ago; I remembered the funeral, how broken Olga was, how she cried on his grave and how I had to basically carry her limp body back to the car. How she fought me, rightfully blamed me for his death and begged to find the bastards who did it to him. I did, but it didn’t mean much - he was gone.   
  
I leaned heavily on the door, trembling from the sudden revelation. This is just a dream, I realized, nothing but a memory. My life ended and I had nothing but memories of it. At least I could see my friend again.   
  
“Misha?” – I called timidly, my voice shaking, and opened the door. I was greeted by emptiness of hallway and cold light of fluorescent lamps. No one was there. I knew I was going to wake up soon, dreams always shattered as soon as I had realized that I was sleeping and I never had the chance to dream lucid nor I wanted to. I was prepared to rise awake any moment, but it never happened.  
I closed shut the door absentmindedly and turned from it only to see Solas standing in my corridor, curiously looking around. Fuck my subconscious. I had no desire to be plagued by fairy tale heroes even in my sleep. I had enough of this shit while I was awake.   
  
This was my tired and distressed brain playing tricks on me, my dream and I should be in control of it, and so I concentrated and wished for ruggedly dressed elf to disappear, to get the fuck out of my sight.  
  
“How rude” – he frowned slightly, looking at me keenly. His looked unperplexed, although his voice sounded faintly amused. Okay, it was understandable why I dreamed of Misha, but why the hell my mind would conjure up _him_? I barely knew the man…elf, whatever.  
  
“Rude. Ha.” – I huffed. “This is my dream, so I can behave however I damn well please.”  
  
“Fascinating.” – he marveled. “I had not expected such keen awareness of the Fade, even with your connection.” – he confessed, shrugging. “Is it common where you came from?”  
  
“ _Да_ _иди_ _ты_ _нахуй_ ” – I spat angrily.   
  
“Just because I cannot understand you doesn’t mean I don’t recognize an insult when I hear one.”   
  
Why I wasn’t waking up? I briefly considered introducing Solas with my fist and though it would have brought me great satisfaction, something else caught my attention. “Wait.” – he raised an incredulous brow as if saying that he wasn’t going anywhere anyway. “You said ‘the Fade’?”  
  
“Yes. The realm of dreams and spirits.” – he gave a slight wave around with his hand and continued. “All living travel the Fade while dreaming, except dwarves. Dwarves do not dream, such is their nature”- he explained. I recalled Cassandra stating that the Fade was ‘the world of demons’. Why the fuck it looked up like my apartment? I knew it wasn’t exactly gorgeous, but still…  
  
“So, what, everyone hop into another dimension as they fall asleep?”   
  
“No, you are not here _physically_.”–  Solas chuckled lightly. “Your body remains at Skyhold. Forgive me for my intrusion, but it was the only way to know if you are indeed from another world.” – despite his apologetic words, he didn’t seem sorry at all. If anything, he looked excited, his blue-grey eyes glinting with curiosity while he stared at me, lowering his head slightly to look at my face. He was so much taller than me, I barely reached his shoulder. I found it hard to tell how exactly old Solas was, his age could had been anywhere between late twenties and early fifties.  “I must say, this place is so peculiar. I can’t say I’ve seen such décor even in the deepest regions of the Fade.”  
  
“Design by Ikea” – I snorted with disdain. I never had the time to redecorate since I moved in and my home still looked like a student den. “So, you are not a figment of my sick imagination, you are real, sort of?” – he nodded in confirmation, grinning a bit, tiny wrinkles of a smile at the corners of his eyes. I didn’t like the way he gaped at me, like he was dissecting me with his inquisitive stare. It made me feel small and uncomfortable. “Well, _mi casa es su casa_.” – I signed and led him to the kitchen. It seemed my well-being in this strange new world depended on his verdict, so I had to be accommodating. “Make yourself comfortable” – I pointed towards dinner table. “Tea, coffee?” He lowered himself on the chair. I leaned on the counter, then grabbed the bottle from the cabinet and slammed it in front of him. “Vodka?” I asked, taking a seat too.  
  
“What’s this?”  
  
“The miracle cure” – I smirked.  
  
“Ah, alcohol. I must decline, I’d rather prefer to converse in a clear state of mind and I don’t want you inebriated too” – bald elf shook his head in disapproval. “Is it considered proper for young ladies to drink in the company of strangers in your world?” – he added teasingly.   
  
“This is an ancient tradition of my people!” – I defended in mock offence. “Anyway, I don’t think you can handle it. This shit” – I nodded towards the bottle, “is nasty.” He gave a rather indignant snort, clearly doubting my words. Honestly, his attitude was so different from our first encounter. He stroke me as a polite, scholarly middle-aged man, although a bit smug. Now he acted like the cat that’s got the cream, his little annoying shit-eating smile never leaving his face. _Living up to his name, huh_?  
  
“Your people? You mean the humans of your world?”   
  
“Russians. It’s debatable if we even are human.” – I shook with genuine laughter and strands of dark hair had fallen over my eyes. I tucked them behind my ear, noticing that it still was pointed at the tip. “I jest. Although I’m clearly not human anymore.”   
  
“Does it bother you? That you are no longer human?” – Solas asked, narrowing his eyes.  
  
“What do you think? I would not mind if the shape of ears was the only thing that changed.” – I grimaced. “But beggars can’t be choosers. By the way, _how_ do I look?” He gave me a lingering, scrutinizing look, under which I could not help but shiver.  
  
“Attractive.” – he declared his assessment, smirking. What an ass, I thought. He knew what I meant by my question, and yet he decided to continue pissing me off. I thanked god (and cold winters) I was wearing my baggy pajama pants and loose sweater, cause I would not have tolerated some witty remark about my clothing as well and just bitch-slapped him.   
  
Solas seemed to notice my inward fuming and lifted his hand in a peaceful gesture.   
  
“You can make necessary arrangements while awake. There are no shortage of mirrors in Skyhold” Oh, of course! How many mirrors I had in my room there exactly? Fucking zero. “I believe, Dorian has at least four.”   
  
“Right, I’ll ask him then, whoever he is,”- I scoffed. “I doubt I will be able to find him, confined in that room.”  
  
“I gather you will be released to my custody after my report to Inquisitor” – he said nonchalantly.  
  
“To your custody?” – I gaped at him, bewildered. “What about proof you needed? Or my crappy furnishing is enough?”  
  
“Oh, I knew of your origin even _before_ you opened your eyes in Skyhold. You had been sleeping for four days. I admit, I overdid it a little, when I subdued you with a spell in the tomb.” – he had a weird mischievous look on his face.   
  
The realization hit me – this was not the first time he invited himself into my dreams. And most certainly not the second. I remembered what Adelie said about “creepy mage”, how much did he see? My privacy was violated in a way I never anticipated; even my mind is not safe from intrusion anymore. I shuddered at the thought; there were things I wanted to keep hidden, memories better left buried. What would stop him from pondering in my dreams again? My fingers clawed at the surface of the table, leaving marks on polish. I felt my face burning, with both embarrassment and rage.   
  
“ _Da’len_ ,” - called Solas, giving me a concerned look, his brow furrowing slightly. “I apologize for my transgression, but, I’m afraid, it was a necessity for your survival.” This time the regret in his words seemed ingenuous, although I failed to see what possible noble reasons he had. “You were afflicted by nightmares, and I had no other way to stop them.” – he explained gently.  
  
“That’s your excuse? I could have handled a few bad dreams on my own, thank you very much!” – I snapped, slamming my fist on the table. “It would not be first time!”  
He sighed heavily.   
  
“The nightmares were not caused solely by distress. Your untamed magic and power over Fade, which you seem to inherit from _Elvhen_ body, shone like a beacon for demons, drawing them into your dreams.” – he said seriously, his expression turning grim. “The Fade is dangerous for unexperienced mages and even adept ones often fall to possession. I feared that in this case your life would have ended on the edge of a sword.”  
  
My jaw fell agape. All my instincts screamed that he was telling the truth, even if it was hard to wrap my head around it. The concept of demon possession sounded like a silly superstition, but he spoke about it with such conviction and, to be fair, it was stupid of me to continue relying on beliefs I formed back home. This was a different world, and nothing, I thought, was impossible.  
  
“I refrained from revealing your nature to Inquisitor because I decided to leave the choice to you whether to disclose or conceal it. The latter would not have been a wise move, I doubt that you could sustain the façade of lies for long, however that didn’t mean you should have been deprived of your own decisions.” – he continued solemnly.   
  
That was surprisingly considerate of him. Something in his tone told me that he would not have exposed me if I chose to lie. It was obvious that he had his own reasons to do so, but whatever his motives were, I could not deny him my gratitude.  
  
“Thank you then, Solas.” – I said earnestly. “And I’m sorry for my outburst. It was…” I smiled sheepishly. “..childish.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” – he nodded back to me. “ _Da’len_.” - he added, smiling wryly.  
  
“You’re insufferable, you know that?” – I sighed tiredly. His frame shook with mirth at my remark.  
  
“Would you mind me asking something?” – he leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. “Why did you lie about your name, _Vera_?”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian obscenities:
> 
> Да пошел ты нахуй - Go fuck yourself.


	8. Thieves Like Us

“What?” – I had no idea what Solas meant – I hadn’t spoken a word that was untrue about me since I got here. Well, I didn’t spill out everything too, but no one asked uncomfortable questions yet, so I had no need to resort to petty lies and half-truths. And I certainly did not give them fake name.  
  
“In all your memories I’ve seen in the Fade – however distorted and fragmented some of them were,” – ‘distorted’? I always had the most bizarre and obscure dreams, my nightmares must had been hard to understand too. Honestly, this dream was almost _too_ normal, disregarding the fact that I was not alone in it. Sharing one’s dream with another was a fascinating concept, albeit in this particular instance a bit creepy, since Solas wasn’t invited in the first place. Geez, if that was possible back home, my work would have been much more complicated. “You have never been called Vera. I cannot understand your language, but I gathered that your name is, in fact, Volkova?” – he continued, rising a questioning eyebrow. All the conversations in my memories were in Russian, I realized. ‘He doesn’t know shit’, I thought happily. Yes, he might had seen something, but how much could he understand from it, unfamiliar with modern way of life and unable to comprehend the language. Seemed that I still had some privacy – and dignity – left.  
  
I could not suppress the laughter from both this revelation and his assumption that I lied about my name.  
  
“My _given_ name is Vera. My full name is Vera Alexandrovna Volkova, but it’s very formal and doesn’t mean anything anymore” – I explained.  
  
“That’s…quite a name” – I scoffed at that, my name was fairly common and simple, there must had been dozens, if not hundreds, women with the same name. “Were you a noble?” – he inquired with a straight face.  
  
“What? You mean noble like a princess or something?” – I asked, disbelieving. “Do I look like one?” – I snorted loudly as to prove my point. He snickered subtly and I quickly continued, not giving him a chance to leave a smartass remark. “Anyway, what are you going to do with me?” The question considering my fate had been bothering me since I woke up and was determined to get answers.  
  
“That depends” – he answered ominously. “Do you possess any memories of this body’s original owner?” That caught me of guard and I started to poke around my memories, frantically searching for any additions to it, but no flashbacks or something came. Only my sad miserable life and the premature death. The gore of it stood out in my mind vividly, and I shuddered at the vision, but quickly regained my composure.  
  
“No” – I said firmly, shifting in my chair. “I don’t think so. I have no idea who this person was or anything. I guess I have only gained the knowledge of the Elven – I assume it’s _Elven_ – language as a bonus. Ah, and voodoo powers.” – I wiggled my fingers. “I mean, magic” – I corrected myself, seeing his confused expression.  
  
“I suspected as much.” – he nodded. “It appears that the Inquisition is in dire need of someone who speaks and reads _Elvhen_. I am currently the only one possessing such knowledge and your assistance could be invaluable” – he give me a meaningful look. “You will be my apprentice for the time being and I will also teach you how to control your magic. If you prove useful to the Inquisition, I assure you, your work will be rewarded and your well-being guaranteed. You have a potential to become a rather strong mage. I also hope to look into the circumstances if your unique…existence.” – he finished.  
  
“You want to study…me?”  
  
“Is that so surprising? Your situation is unprecedented.”  
  
“Yeah, I guess people normally stay dead and not end up in alternative universes” – I sighed. This was so surreal. “I did not hope that you will believe me though, my story does sound like a complete bullshit.”  
  
“Time travel considered impossible too.” – Solas shrugged nonchalantly as if time _fucking_ travel was the most usual thing. Like making scrambled eggs or going for a stroll.  
  
“You kidding me” – I choked. “Time travel. For real?” – he nodded in confirmation. “Oh this is rich! What about paradoxes? Did you go forward or backwards in time?” – he lifted an amused eyebrow at my babbling. “Ok, how it happened? Did you somehow traveled faster than light?” – I started recycling everything I remembered about theory of relativity in my mind, which was not much. I never had the brains for this stuff. It was also probable that laws of earthen physics do not apply here, it was the other world after all, where magic is real, which by definition defied physics. “Magic. It was magic, right?” – Solas nodded again and I triumphantly yelled “Ha! Knew it!”  
  
“If you are interested, you should ask Dorian. He’s familiar with theory.” - he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "But we lingered enough here. We will speak later…after you _wake up_.”  
  
My eyes snapped open and I sat up abruptly on the bed. Did he kicked me out of my own dream? I felt terribly disoriented, one moment I was in my kitchen – and it seemed so real – and the next I found myself back on a hay mattress. It felt like I was doused in cold water, nothing like the smooth transition from sleeping to being conscious in a natural way. I groaned and scrambled from the bed, shaking the remnants of a sleep away.  
  
Goddamn, if that’s how I was going to wake up here every day, I would not last long and just kill myself. I remembered what Solas said about ‘studying my situation’ and just hoped that doesn’t include dissection or any weird experiments. What my life had been reduced to, I mused grimly, placing my fate in the hands of the strangers and hoping for the best. That wouldn’t do and I had no faith in these people’s good intentions. I needed to get back in control.  
  
My options were limited and I decided to play along and be compliant for the moment. I had no information on the state of this world, so I had to keep a low profile and gather the intel. That was familiar, assessing and calculating the facts, although I had never been doing covert operations in my life, it was always more like bludgeoning in along with armed to the teeth men. Still, I was familiar with the concept and was one hundred percent positive I could pull it off. Moreover, what was the better place for gathering info then being a translator?  
  
It was strikingly stupid to trust some chick who claimed to be reincarnated and even more stupid to give her a place among this organization. I had no illusions that I would be left alone unsupervised and Solas could blow everything with his dream intruding, so I had to either somehow get my subconscious under control or persuade him to refrain from trespassing. Normally, I would have threaten him with inevitable consequences for such intrusion on my orivace, but I had no authority here. This had to be dealt with as soon as possible.  
  
I felt elated as I was pacing around the room, lost in thought. These guys did not know who were they dealing with.  
  
_Не первую зиму волку зимовать_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Не первую зиму волку зимовать. - an idiom, literally "Not the first winter for wolf to endure"


	9. Sooner Than You Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to amazing Capri for editing!

It seemed that an eternity had passed since I woke up. Twice. Breakfast brought by Adelie kept me occupied for some time, but once finished it, I wandered around the room again, pacing around aimlessly. I mentally kicked myself for falling asleep fully clothed. The outfit they gave me was nowhere near fancy in the first place, but now it was so badly wrinkled it looked like something a cow had chewed and spit out.

  
There were a great amount of things I didn’t like or could barely tolerate, but I absolutely loathed waiting and doing nothing. Impatience was my most annoying trait and I couldn’t count how many times I screwed up because of it. I never had the time to be patient, there was always something to be done. I frequently complained about how tiresome that pace was, my friends and family always urged me to slow down and to take care of myself, but I just couldn’t. Money wasn’t the only reason, with my background and connections I could easily find a decent job. As much as I hated to admit it, I loved my work, I relished almost every moment of it. The thrill, the rush of adrenaline – life would have been dull without it.  
  
Of course, I had regrets. Lots of them. As with any of my colleagues, I had my own private cemetery. I hadn’t killed anyone with my own hands, since my position mostly involved a shitload of paperwork and the real action was a rare occasion, but sometimes it surely felt the same. When the darkness came at night or when I was alone, the images of mutilated corpses and black body bags lined up on the sidewalks haunted me again and again. I didn’t know if my unpleasant memories would eventually disappear or if one day they would consume me. Until then - I needed to live - I had to go on.   
  
A knock on the door stopped my endless pacing and I straightened up, putting on a neutral face. The door was flung open and two men stepped into the room. I recognized Solas immediately but the second visitor was unfamiliar to me. He was a tall man with bronze skin like he had spent most of his time outside in the sun. His dark hair was cropped short and he was wearing a neatly trimmed moustache. I noticed how different his clothes were, Solas’ outfit looked completely utilitarian and practical rather than attractive. The stranger was dressed in clothes that had more shiny metal buckles and clasps than could possibly be useful for anyone and the fabric was richer. The man gave me a critical look up and down, screwing up his face like he didn’t like what he saw. I folded my arms across my chest and pursed my lips defensively.  
  
Solas opened his mouth to say something but he never had a chance to speak as the man stepped towards me. He tilted his head curiously, giving me a once over again.   
  
“So, she’s actually a spirit of dead human woman from another world, occupying the thousand years old ancient elven corpse? Did I forget something?” – the stranger mused aloud, turning to Solas. “Fascinating. We absolutely must investigate it further. The possibilities…the impact on my research!” – his eyes darted to me again. “She looks surprisingly normal though. I see no signs of decomposition or decay although I need examine the body thoroughly to be certain.” He spoke as if I was not even there!   
  
“Shouldn’t you at least buy me dinner first?” – I narrowed my eyes at him. "You can also come a little closer and we can check if my biceps muscles are suffering from _rigor mortis_ ” – I said in a mocking tone and swung an arm around in a small arc with my fist clenched. “Seems working fine to me.”   
  
I realized that this seemed more of a comical gesture than a real warning. I was a slim waif of a woman and could hardly be a threat to an adult man. My previous body – how weird was to refer to my human self that way – was hardly imposing as well. However, what I lacked in physical prowess, I compensated with self-confidence that came along with my status and, occasionally, a gun.  Even a tiny blonde with nine millimeter P-96M in her shoulder holster would be rather intimidating.  
  
Solas seemed to be amused by this pathetic display, but at least he tried to cover his smile with the palm of his hand. I was accustomed to be addressed with deference or even with fear, and the lack of respect to my person wounded my pride deeply. Resigned with my embarrassment, I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin proudly.   
  
The tanned man was staring at me as if I’d grown two heads or maybe was headless altogether, like the chickens.  
  
“You speak Ancient Tevene?” – he exclaimed incredulously, still staring at me as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. I eventually realized that he meant the Latin phrase I used. So, Latin was Ancient Tevene here, whatever that meant.   
  
“ _Barbarus hic ego sum, quia non intelligor ulli_ ” – I recited, remembering my Latin lessons back at university. “I do not really speak it; it’s a dead language where I come from.” – I shrugged apologetically, painfully aware that I had certainly butchered the pronunciation.  
  
“A pity! And here I hoped to have a thorough discussion on peculiarities of Ancient Tevene orthography, but it seems I remain the only expert on the topic” – he flashed me a brilliant smile. “I’m Dorian Pavus, your only chance to have a civilized conversation in these barbaric lands.”   
  
“Ah, Tevinter is so advanced in comparison. Especially in the practice of slavery.” – Solas muttered, rolling his eyes. So, enslavement was a real thing here. I shouldn’t have been surprised and, yet, I was. How exactly primitive was the society here?   
  
“Vera,” – I stated, all business-like. Was it him that Dorian Solas had spoken of? He was excessively handsome for a time travel researcher, I expected someone looking more like a Doc Brown. I smiled politely, and marched up to him, my right hand outstretched in greeting.  
  
Dorian bowed slightly and took my hand to raise to his lips, but I grabbed his hand and gave him a firm handshake instead. Was he really going to kiss my hand? That was ridiculous.  
  
“It looks like your muscles are indeed alright,” – Dorian said with a laugh. “Although this is no proper way for a lady to…”  
  
“I’m not a lady” – I interrupted him, pulling my hand from his. “I’m not a noble; there is no need to address me as such”  
  
“A commoner then?”  
  
“No,” – I sighed. What was with caste systems and these people? “There are no nobles or commoners or anything like that back home. Not anymore.” – I clarified.  
  
“How interesting” – mused Solas, rubbing his chin.  
  
“What do you mean ‘not anymore’? Did they disappear into the thin air one day?” – Dorian asked disbelievingly, as if he couldn’t even fathom the existence of such a thing.  
  
“They were killed or forced to flee the country during the revolution a hundred years ago or so,” – I said, observing the stupefied expression on their faces. “The ruling classes trembled at the bloody rebellion. The people were desperate and had nothing to lose but their chains. They had a world to win.” – I added in a deadpan voice. It was truly hilarious to see how Dorian’s and Solas’ faces changed, I could barely suppress a laugh. My tirade was nothing but a vulgar communist bullshit, but the effect on these two oblivious guys was amazing. Dorian’s jaw fell agape and all his swagger and cockiness just vanished. Solas’ expression was unreadable, his jaw tensed as his gaze slashed down to meet mine. I stared straight into his eyes, unwavering. I bit down the urge to throw more Marxism slogans at them; I was having too much fun already.  
  
Solas was the first to wake from the stupor.  
  
“It seems your home is very different. I would like to know more about it, but it can wait.” – he remarked, regaining his composure. “But there are things you need to know about this world. You might find it hard to believe or even contemplate, but it is the truth and you must accept it.” His tone was serious.  
  
I almost snorted. At this point, I thought l couldn’t be surprised anymore. I was _dead_ wrong, no pun intended.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barbarus hic ego sum, quia non intelligor ulli - In this place I am a barbarian, because men do not understand me


	10. Shellshock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful editor Capri for fixing this mess :3

Solas’ tone shifted from conversation to lecture. I listened carefully, the wheels in my head were turning, and everything I'd been told over the past few hours trying to come together in my head. I knew Dorian and Solas had barely scratched the surface of the realities of this world – which apparently was called Thedas – and I knew that they omitted some information intentionally. Solas was good at avoiding questions, but I was always good at getting around bullshit. That was in the job description, after all. Still, I could tell it was going to be a herculean task for me to adjust in this world, especially after the life I led back home. But I was nothing if not adaptable.  
  
“Okay.” – I said in a flat tone. “ _Sooooooo_ – correct me if I’m missing something – this world is literally ending, there is a madman with a god complex on the loose and you guys are the only ones who have the balls to stand up to him?” – I started absent-mindedly tapping out piano fingerings on the surface of the table.  
  
They nodded unanimously. I wasn’t naïve and never thought that it would be all rainbows and unicorns here but I had never anticipated that I would end up in the middle of a warzone. Considering what little Solas and Dorian had told me about the slavery, demons, religious fanatics, the Blight and all that shit, this world seemed hardly a pleasant one. _Just my luck._   
  
“I thought I would never say this but, hey, I guess Russia wasn’t such a bad place after all.” – My voice sounded strangely strained. “So, this Inquisition – you’re the good guys here, right? That’s a relief.” – I switched the topic. “The word ‘inquisition’ has a different connotation in my world. Less ‘saving the world’, more ‘burning witches and heretics on stakes’.” – I cracked a grin.  
  
“That sounds more inline with what Templar Order would do.” – Solas stated, frowning slightly. “That does, however, explain your wary attitude.”  
  
“Well, you do keep me here against my will.” – I replied. “Not exactly accommodating. Although, I understand your reasons. Better safe than sorry, right? Honestly, I should be thankful I wasn’t killed on sight.” I sighed, shaking my head. “Being killed is a dreadful experience, trust me. Wouldn’t recommend to anyone.”  
  
“You were killed?” – Dorian asked, looking at me as if he saw me for the first time. I saw Solas shoot me a glance full of pity. I hated myself in that moment. They must have thought I was a sad victim of a horrible crime, deserving of their compassion. I felt disgusted with myself. Even if I was a victim, I was a victim of my own stupidity and recklessness. My death was a logical conclusion to my actions, driven by foolhardiness and pride. I took the risk and paid the price, there was nothing tragic in my demise. If anything, it was somewhat _ironic,_ all things considered.  
  
“How did it happen?” – Dorian asked quietly.  
  
“Dorian.” – Solas gave Dorian a sharp glare; his voice held an edge of warning.

“Took two shots to the stomach and a final one to the head.” – I said in an eerily calm tone. “Hurt like a bitch.” – Dorian seemed positively horrified at my admission and I could not blame him for that. I was disturbed by it too, to be honest. I was afraid that I would not be able to speak about my death without losing my composure or, god forbid, without sobbing pathetically. Instead, defying all my expectations, I was ghostly, unnaturally serene. “It wasn’t…” – I stammered, trying to find accurate words. “It was a coincidence.” – I managed finally. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” – It even wasn’t technically a lie.   
  
The room fell into uneasy stillness. Dorian looked like he wanted to say something, but the words seemed to escape him. Solas was openly staring at me, that annoying compassionate grimace never leaving his face. The air suddenly became heavy; the thick silence and oppressive semidarkness made the room  feel closed in and a little claustrophobic.  
  
“Do you think…” – I started slowly, breaking the silence. “Do you think this world deserves saving?”   
  
“What?” – Dorian exclaimed incredulously. “Of course it does, it has _me_ in it!” – He said, rolling his eyes dramatically. He looked at me mindfully as I was staring blankly into nothingness. “You’re serious.”- he observed. Solas stayed silent, but his expression shifted from pity to completely unreadable one. His sharp steel blue eyes bore into me and there was something in them that made me shiver. “It’s not like we have another world to escape into to let this one be destroyed!” – Dorian said sarcastically. The dawn of realization glowed on his face and he breathed a mirthless laugh. “Of course. You don’t care about this world, because it’s not _yours_.” – He said accusingly. “Do you honestly think that any world deserves what Corypheus desires?” – He asked harshly.   
  
I let out a heavy breath.  
  
“You didn’t answer my question.” – My voice seemed completely stripped of any emotion. I suddenly felt very tired and _old_. “Why risk your life for it? What’s the point? Why fight if everything you do is meaningless, and no one really cares? Your sacrifices are taken for granted. Your successes are easily forgotten and your failings are irreversible. You have to live with the weight of your losses, and you know there is no one else to blame for your decisions, except for yourself!” – I snapped angrily the last phrase. “And the best part – everything is still going straight to _fucking_ hell, despite your best efforts!” I noticed I was yelling only when my throat started to ache. I was shaking, but I couldn’t stop. I could feel my hands clenched into tight fists, my nails digging into the flesh. I wanted to hit something, to scream, damn it, I wanted to cry, but tears didn’t come. Instead, I wailed like an injured animal, collapsing on the dusty floor.   
  
My breath came in ragged bursts. _Oh fuck_. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. T _his can’t be happening_ , I thought frantically, _I’m not having a mental breakdown right now_. I tried to clear my mind, pushing every thought away. _I’m not even allowed to have psychotic breaks_. I gritted my teeth, trying to regain my focus. The control I normally had was slipping away from me.   
  
I had to do something. Then the realization hit me with the unseen force that felt like a brick wall. I had no purpose anymore. Everything important to me was left _there_ , back home, and I felt utterly lost. I lost more than my life. I lost _myself_. I didn’t belong here and I never would, no matter how hard I tried to persuade myself otherwise.  I should have stayed dead.  
  
“Vera.” – I heard Solas, but I ignored him completely. I felt someone shaking my shoulders lightly, but I wasn’t coherent enough to react. I felt like I was breaking apart, shattering into tiny pieces.  
  
Who was I here without my calling? _Vera_? I should have chosen another name, because I didn’t even remember anymore who was I when I was just Vera. I was nothing now. I was gone. Just a miserable, worthless, pathetic…  
  
_Stop_ , I commanded myself. _Get your shit together_.   
  
_Fight_.  
  
_What for_ , I asked myself.  
  
_That’s an order. Orders are not up for discussion. You want your life back? Take it.  
_  
The command I had given myself sounded awfully like something my father would have said, but it was working. I had never followed his instructions before. Still, even if I had little respect for the man, I always admired the way he had absolute authority over his subordinates.  
  
I gently pushed Solas, who was kneeling beside me, away. I was ashamed. No one should’ve seen me like this. Dorian was standing over me awkwardly, staring at me with an unguardedly taken aback expression. _At least I didn’t cry like a baby_ , I thought grimly.  
  
I stood up and brushed the dust off my clothing. I took a deep breath and straightened my back, and stood taller.   
  
“Take me to the Inquisitor.” – I said firmly. Solas opened his mouth to protest, but I never gave him a chance. “ _Now_.”  



	11. I Told You So

“You want to fight for the Inquisition?” – Sahren made a surprised, disbelieving sound that was not quite a laugh.   
  
“Yes.” – I nodded.   
  
“Why?” – Leliana asked, tilting her head to one side. I thought that her nickname – or was it her rank? – suited her well. She did look like a curious bird sometimes. It might have been somewhat cute, but her cold, calculating gaze ruined that impression.  
  
“Why not?” - I shrugged. “Your cause seems worth fighting for. I want to contribute and well, that whole ‘translator from ancient Elvish’ business was not going to work anyway.” – Lavellan looked at me quizzically. _Fuck me sideways if I am buried in paperwork again_. I had had enough of it for a lifetime and I had no desire to spend another second behind the desk.  
  
 “I’m illiterate.” – I blurted out. _Shit_. This was so going to bite me in the ass later. Or it could be an advantage, depending on how I was going to play my hand. Maybe, it wasn’t a bad move, letting them think of me as an uneducated bumpkin. Let them underestimate me all they wanted, it just gave me more room to manoeuvre.  
  
_Too many variables._ I scowled. I hated uncertainties and my fate was exactly that. My life was built on a solid foundation of facts, on knowing what was going to be done and who was going to do it, because _I_ was the one who made the decisions. _Mostly_. Now I was no longer in that position and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all. I could almost hear German’s gloating. ‘Queen bitch of control freaks is out of her comfort zone! Let’s bet how long it’s going take before she goes nuts!’ _That asshole_. I was definitely not going to miss him. Ever. I could never forgive him that fuck-up with _very_ sensitive documents. I had to call in every favor and pull all my connections to sweep that whole mess under the rug.   
  
“Can you fight?” – The Inquisitor’s question stopped my silent ranting.   
  
“No. Not with your…” - _primitive_ _weaponry_ – “Not with swords and shields. We use different weapons.” – I clarified. He arched his eyebrow questionably. “And no, I can’t make them for you, I don’t know how to do it.” – That was _so_ not true. I could probably write a monograph on explosives alone. And I had field-stripped my hand gun more times than I could count, so I knew its mechanism down to the last detail. Still, I had no intention of sharing this knowledge anytime soon.    
  
“You were a soldier then?” – I could barely suppress a laugh at that. I simply shook my head in the negative.   
  
If only my father knew, he would be turning in his grave like a rotisserie chicken. He wanted his child to continue the family tradition of military service. Sadly, his only child happened to be a girl who never gave a single fuck about his wishes. Maybe – _just maybe_ – his A+ parenting was to blame. His constant remarks of how he always wanted a boy did wonders for my self-esteem. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had always known that the real reason behind my choice of career was that childhood desire to prove myself and defy my father’s wishes at the same time _._ Guess I could blame him for that, too. _Thanks Dad, you got me killed_. Not that it made me feel any better.  
  
“So, you are basically useless.” – Leliana sneered. I glared at her, feeling a little insulted. _Okay, maybe not a little._ Still, I regained my composure pretty quickly. I wasn’t going to let my bruised ego run the show.   
  
“I’m a quick study.” – _Ugh_. This was so lame. They probably saw me as a worthless lowlife who had never even bothered learning how to read. Just when I thought I had hit rock bottom I started digging a ditch. I exhaled a gush of air, before continuing in an unyielding voice.   
  
“Solas thinks I have a potential as a mage and he was going to teach how to control this…magic anyway. Why stop there? If I live up to his expectations, you’ll have another asset in your disposal. If not, well, I can always clean toilets or something, I suppose.” – _That_ would deliver a fatal blow to my pride. Not that this was going to happen in any case. Even without magic, I had a few aces up in my sleeve that made me too valuable for latrine duty. “In any case, it’s a win-win.”  
  
“You have a point.” – Lavellan conceded, sighing. “Do you even understand what you’re asking for? There is a war going on. You can be killed or…worse.”  
  
“Well, that’s my funeral. And it would not be my first one.” – I grinned sardonically. “What do I need to do to make this official? Sign a contract? Pledge my loyalty and fealty to you? Or a pinkie swear is enough?” – I asked, unable to censor my sarcasm, even with my life on the line.  
  
“You better consider this matter with the utmost seriousness.” – Leliana said, narrowing her eyes. “I do not have a habit of treating betrayers mercifully.”   
  
I barely suppressed the urge to roll my eyes at that. I had been considering the red-haired woman a _colleague_ of some sort, but she had not thought twice before resorting to blunt threats. I was always convinced that this was a rookie move. You can always get shit done and remain civil in the process. It’s just plainly unprofessional to behave like a common thug. I, personally, looked down on such conduct and did everything in my power to restrain my comrades and subordinates from unnecessary violence.   
  
“Oh, I’m _dead_ serious.” – I replied in a flat tone. I just couldn’t resist. Leliana looked so fucking annoyed, with her lips twitching in disapproval. I knew being a smartass wasn’t a very reasonable strategy, but I felt tired and irritable. My temper and ability to control myself were always an issue. It was my biggest problem – this and the idiots I had to suffer - in my line of work. “I have no intention of betraying anyone. _Perish_ the thought.”  
  
“Creators help me, she’s worse than Sera.” – Sahren chuckled, looking at the ceiling and spreading his arms in a dramatic gesture. “These two will be the _death_ of me!” He choked on laughter when he realized what he had said.   
  
“I will watch every step you make.” – Leliana added in an almost comically sinister voice.  
  
“Oh, of that I am as sure as _death_ and taxes.” – I scoffed. I started to think that this woman was utterly amateurish. Who in their right mind would ever tell the object of surveillance _about_ the surveillance? Not that I had thought for a minute that I would be left unsupervised, but still. Dorian said that Leliana held the position of a spymaster in the Inquisition, but the more I thought about the more I was reinforced in my belief that she was incompetent. Yes, from what I had gathered the Nightingale was a terrifying woman, a cold-blooded killer, no less. But espionage and counterintelligence were never about brute force.    
  
Lavellan sighed then and regarded me seriously, but the cast of his features were such that even his gravity had a twist of amusement. “Welcome to the Inquisition, Vera.”  
  



	12. Bizarre Love Triangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eternal thanks to Capri for editing!

I stood on the battlements, gazing towards the horizon with my eyes fixed upon the rapidly dwindling sunlight. I was deep in thought, admiring the scenery - when the sunlight burst from behind the clouds and illuminated the mountains. Glistening white peaks reached high into foamy clouds, snow-covered from tip to foot, ribbons of white flowing along their sides. The first snowflake fell from the sky, drifting gently through the air and finally finding rest on my open palm as countless other snowflakes followed suit, covering Skyhold in a white furcoat.  
  
I had somewhat expected to get overwhelmed by homesickness as soon as the snowfall started. Instead, I feel almost joyful, carefree. The chill of the cool mountain air was an unfamiliar sensation to me, but it still painfully reminded me of my youth. I had constantly been missing the magnificent winters of my childhood home. The climate in Moscow was mild and soft, relatively speaking; even -30 C on the thermometer was a rare occasion. Compared to frozen Siberian hell, Moscow was a tropical paradise. Compared to Moscow, this place was a ski resort. Ridiculously warm ski resort. But then, what would I know about ski resorts? Or any other resorts, for that matter. Even if I ever wanted to go on a fancy vacation, I never had the chance. I would never even be able to pass through full passport control and customs. Shit, I had no idea why I even had a valid international passport. Should’ve burned it or something, since it was practically useless. A small act of rebellion. I sighed, releasing a small cloud of steam from my mouth.  
  
“Shit, you really are weird.” Someone said behind me. I turned around only to face a short blonde man, who was flashing me a surprisingly friendly smile. I remembered him as the dwarf from the tomb, the one with the crossbow. He was wearing a red shirt that was open to reveal an excessive amount of chest hair. Seriously, some people have less hair on their heads. _Solas, for example_ , I thought, smirking to myself. “No sane person would look so happy, standing in the blizzard.” The dwarf added.  
  
“I like snow.” I shrugged. “Better than mud anyway.” I had visited Saint Petersburg many times in my lifetime. The weather there was positively dreadful. Baltic storm were merciless, and the wind and rain seemed endless. Locals used to say that there were only two types of good weather in Saint Pete – ‘the mud has dried’ and ‘the mud has frozen’. Truer words had never been spoken. Still, the theatres were  really nice. “Although, I do have serious doubts concerning my sanity. All this” I gestured vaguely towards the mountains “shit is crazy.”  
  
“That’s what I’ve been saying all along!” He exclaimed. “Name’s Varric, by the way. Varric Tethras. Businessman, expert marksman and bestselling author.” He said with a mock bow.  
  
“Vera, recently deceased.” I replied, touching my forehead in a salute. He laughed amiably and then regarded me curiously.  
  
“So, you are dead human woman in an elf body. From another world.” I nodded in affirmation and he shook his head, frowning a little. “My publisher will never agree to print this crap.” He grumbled to himself. “Chuckles was worried you got lost, it’s been hours since you left to talk to the Inquisitor.”  
  
“I have an awesome sense of direction.” I smiled, waving my hand dismissively. “And I can always ask these nice ladies and gents, who follow me around, for help.”  
  
“Ha! So you’ve noticed. Must be Leliana’s.”  
  
“No shit.” I grinned. “I’m going to keep an eye on you, she said.” I said, mimicking her voice. “Spooky.”  
  
Varric laughed at my poor imitation of Leliana’s accent.

  
“They’re bad.” I continued. “See that woman? In a burgundy dress and a silver mask?” I nodded towards a woman, who was casually leaning on a stone wall. “I assume she’s supposed to look like a noble of some sort, her dress is rather fancy. But,” – I made a dramatic pause. “Her hands. They are calloused and she has dirt under her nails. I don’t know shit about nobles, but, I guess, it’s safe to presume that ladies from high society would not leave their manicure in such dreadful state.”  
  
“You’re right.” He was clearly impressed by my simple observation. “A chipped nail is a scandal among Orlesian nobility. _Orlesians_.” He rolled his eyes. “Chuckles and Sparkler forgot to mention that you’re a smart one.” I raised my eyebrow questionably and he explained. “Solas and Dorian. I give people nicknames. It’s a thing.” He shrugged his shoulders as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Not so sure about you. I was thinking ‘Crazy’ or ‘Weirdo’… It’s a work in progress.”  
  
“That’s lame.” I interrupted him.  
  
“Exactly!” He threw his arms up in their air.  
  
“You can use my old one.” I offered, laughing. “They used to call me ‘Дворник’ - Janitor.”  
  
“Don’t tell me that’s because you actually had been cleaning streets.” He said, chuckling. “Cause that’s really lame.”  
  
“Not literally, no.” I smirked to myself. “I wasn’t suited for manual labor anyways.”  
  
“Too proud?”  
  
“Too _thin_.” I corrected. Varric laughed again, before coughing loudly, choking on a cold air.  
  
“Shit.” He exhaled. “I think I’m freezing on the inside. And it’s getting late.”  
  
He was right. The sky was dark and two moons glowed huge and white above the mountains. Stars flickered in the heavens, surrounding twin moons like a ritual. They were unfamiliar stars in unfamiliar constellations— the stars of another universe. Thick snowflakes were coming faster out of the darkening sky, swirling in the air.  
  
“Let’s hit the tavern.” Varric suggested, shivering lightly from the cold. His teeth were beginning to chatter. “I’m buying.”  
  
“I can use a drink.” I nodded. Truth be told, I wasn’t bothered by the cold in the slightest. I didn’t feel the cold too badly as a rule, never had. I had lived through a couple harsh winters, and this was nothing like them. Still, the humidity stood near zero – and I knew that dry cold could be deceptive.  
  
The courtyard was empty and silent; everyone had gone in. Only the sound of our footsteps on a fresh snow disturbed the silence. We approached a sturdy wooden building, and I heard muffled sobbing and cruel laughter. There were two men near the wooden wall, one was pinning a girl against the wall and the other was forcing her out of her clothes. They were armed with swords and their metal armor was shining in the glow of the moon. Moons. The girl's face was partly hidden in shadows but I saw her frantic eyes, wide with horror. It was obvious what was going on there.  
  
“Bastards.” Varric cursed. “Hey, gentlemen!” He yelled. “Back away from the girl!”  
  
“Fuck off, dwarf. That’s between us and her.” One of them spat, turning to us. The assailant had black hair and an ugly face, marred by a deep scar that ran from his cheekbone to chin. No wonder he turned to rape, no one would do him on his or her own volition.  
  
“I said – release the girl. Right _fucking_ now.” Varric growled, taking a step towards them.  
  
“Or what, rock humper?” The man, who was holding the girl, taunted. His face was covered in pockmarks, dirty blond hair on his head was sticking out in all directions. “Move along, this is none of your business.” They were more than ten meters away from me, but I could practically taste the horrible stench. Drunken soldiers. This was revolting.  
  
“Get lost while you can, dwarf.” The Scarface said, unsheathing his blade in one motion. “You got yourself a knife-ear whore, and we’ve found our entertainment for the evening too. Unless you want to share?” A predatory glint flashed in his eyes and his mouth twitched in a disgusting smirk.  
  
I felt my anger boil. I had to do something. I had never missed my gun like in that particular moment. Varric was unarmed too. These assholes were acting so boldly and sure of themselves, since we obviously posed no threat to them. At least they thought so… Then an idea flashed in my brain.  
  
“That’s a rather big sword. Are you compensating for something?” I sneered, stepping forward. “If you don’t want your tiny dicks burned to a crisp, I suggest you leave the girl alone.” I said in a dangerously low voice, raising my hand and summoning the light as I did when I first had discovered my magic. Only this time a small flame rested in my palm instead of the glowing ball of pure light. Fireball. A _literal_ fireball. “Well?” I said, trying to sound as confident as possible. “You still have a chance to leave. I’d hate to spend the night cleaning your ashes.” I mused casually. The flame in my hand grew stronger, casting long shadows across the ground.  
  
Their faces turned pale. The hunger in their eyes was gone, showing their true nature. Cowards. Pathetic excuses of men, who could only prey upon the weak and run with their tails between their legs. I grinned viciously, baring my teeth in a wolfish snarl.   
  
“Fucking knife-ear wench.” Scarface cursed in defeat, sheathing his sword. His accomplice followed his cue and freed the girl of his hold. The poor thing was trembling as a leaf, and as soon as she was free, she slumped on the ground, sobbing quietly.  
  
“You know, Varric,” I sighed heavily, lowering my hand and dismissing the flame I conjured. “I suddenly feel like drinking myself into oblivion tonight.” I watched with narrowed eyes as Scarface and Smallpox were retreating into the darkness.  
  
“Me too, Wolfie.” He replied, moving towards the girl. “Me too.”  
  
Wolfie? How could he possibly know…?  
  
_Wow_ , I thought, _he’s really good at this nickname thing._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Дворник ("janitor") is a real Russian prison slang term. It is used as some sort of an insult, but Vera is somewhat proud of it.
> 
> 2\. Varric is really good with nicknames. Vera's surname "Volkova" derives from the Russian "волк" (wolf). It's a pretty common surname, literally meaning "daughter of the wolf" in female version ("Volkova"), and "son of the wolf" in male version ("Volkov"). Although, it has little to do with the actual animal, since 'Волк' was simply a given name (or a nickname) in the past.


	13. Working Overtime

“ _Блядский ебанный стыд_.” I muttered under my breath. I wasn’t exactly feeling hungover after drinking with Varric, that should have come later. Like, in the morning. After I would have gotten a good night's sleep. Instead, I was standing half-naked, _bare-footed_ for fuck’s sake, in a bloody dungeon where Cassandra, this fucking bulldozer of a woman, had dragged me in the middle of the night.

 

“ _Нахуй так жить_.” I cursed, wrapping my arms around me. This place was damp and cold. So cold, that I could actually feel myself getting sober by the minute. This could serve as rather decent вытрезвитель, although if I woke up here after a fun night I would have thought that this is it, I have finally drunk myself into delirium tremens. To be fair, I guess, most people would have thought that. Waking up in dark dungeon with a company of a half-burned corpse is a stuff straight out of alcoholic hallucinations. At least, that would be a good incentive to quit drinking once and for all.

 

“ _Ладно, хрен с ним_.” I sighed, fixing my gaze on the Inquisitor. “I didn’t do this, okay?” I said, gesturing towards the body.

 

“Of course, you would not admit to your crime.” Cassandra sneered. Cullen just released a disgusted huff, throwing me a condemning look. Seemed that those two had already decided my guilt. I sighed again. What had I done to piss the universe off? Seriously. I had hopes that all that shit was left behind me, along with my life. But _no_ , the trail of bodies decided to follow me into afterlife too. And this time they wanted to pin it on me. _Just my luck_.

 

Leliana was far more reserved with her opinions on the matter; she was just leaning casually on the stone wall near the table on which said body rested. I could tell that she was watching my every move and observing every reaction, making mental notes. I could not care less. _I was innocent._

 

“Cassandra,” Lavellan said slowly. His eyes were glowing. Like _literally_ glowing. Reflecting light as cat’s eyes do. Was this an elf thing? Were my eyes doing that too? I had noticed that I was seeing better in the dark than I had used to. A few torches on the wall should not have been enough lighting for me to see as much details of the surroundings as I was able. “Don’t be too quick to judge. Remember what happened last time you accused _someone_ of murder?” He finished with a smirk.

 

“I’m so glad you’re the one in charge here, Inquisitor.” I said honestly. He seemed the most reasonable person I had met here. Ironically, an elf was more humane than humans were and less prone to violence. I guess the human race was messed up in every world. “I think it’s safe to say that if not for you I would have been dead already. _Again_.”

 

“Don’t get your hopes high.” Sahren replied, furrowing his brow. “I only doubt your guilt. That doesn’t put you in the clear.”

 

“Understood.” I nodded. “That’s all I need. A benefit of a doubt.” Presumption of innocence would have been nice too, but that had not been working as intended every time even in my world and I was fairly sure they hadn’t developed this principle here. _Yet_.

 

“A person matching your description was seen near the battlements where the body was found. A bloodied knife was found under your bed. And, lastly, you did threaten this man with your magic.” Commander said, not even bothering to hide his disdain. “As I see it, you decided to enact justice on your own after your encounter with the victim. I can’t say I feel sorry for the man, what he did or tried to do was despicable but you had no right to take the matter into your own hands.”

 

“Nice theory, Sherlock.” I applauded theatrically. “I hope you’re better at commanding military forces. Solving crimes doesn’t seem to be your forte.”

 

“Well, enlighten us then. Everything is pointing to you.” He replied, folding his arms across his chest. I doubt that was comfortable with all the armor his was wearing. Was he sleeping in it or something? It was the middle of the night after all. “And my name isn’t Sherlock.” _No shit, Sherlock,_ I thought, rolling my eyes.

 

“The only thing that was pointing to me today was her sword.” I waved towards Cassandra. “This whole mess is so obviously staged, I would not be surprised to find ‘ _bullshit_ ’ written somewhere on the corpse. By the way, may I take a closer look at it?”

 

“Yeah, why not.” The Inquisitor shrugged. “If you have the stomach for it. It’s rather…morbid.”

 

“At least I would be completely sober if I threw up now. I’m more concerned with catching cold though.” I said, walking closer to the table. “What do we have here?” I mused aloud, leaning over the body.

 

Someone really did a number on Smallpox. A better part of the body was covered in severe burns. He had non-burned areas on the left side of his torso and the left part of his head. His clothes were still wet, it seemed that someone had put out the fire with a bucket of water or something like that. Without ceremony, I ripped his bloodied shirt apart. There was a gaping stab wound to his chest, the knife entered somewhere between the second and the third rib. It looked deep enough to reach his heart. Such injury would have been the cause of almost instant death.

 

I hummed thoughtfully and poked his left cheek with my index finger. The other half of his face was completely scorched. _Two-face_ , I thought, _like the dude from the comics_. I mourned the wasted opportunity to make a joke about it. No one would have understand it here anyway.

 

“And I thought you couldn’t possibly become uglier, buddy. It’s so refreshing when people surpass your expectations.” I said to myself, switching my attention to his neck and cautiously touching it. “Don’t be so sad about it. You would have been buried in closed casket anyway.”

 

“ _Ugh_.”

 

“Too soon?” I asked, looking up at Cassandra. She looked utterly disgusted, her face distorted in a grimace, as if she was looking at something very foul and repulsive. Others wore the same expressions. Except Leliana, her face was as stony as ever. “Too soon.” I answered my own question with a sigh. _Pussies_.

 

“Well,” I announced, finishing my examinations and stepping back from the corpse. “I’m most certainly not the one who did it.” I grinned complacently, rubbing my hands. Cassandra and Cullen huffed simultaneously, obviously irritated by my antics.

 

“Wait, I’ll explain.” I said, holding up a hand to stop them from unleashing their annoyance on me. “Firstly, the knife wound wasn’t what killed him. Someone snapped his neck and only then stabbed him in the chest. And only then set the body on fire. To conceal the evidence and to make it look like I had done it, I suppose.” I made a dramatic pause. “Obviously I could not have done it, even if I wanted to. Breaking someone’s neck requires a considerable physical strength. And as you can all clearly see,” I pointed to myself, “I’m currently running low on the amount of developed muscles in this body.” As if I ever had them. It was a valid point anyway, the nightgown I was wearing left nothing to imagination. I looked like I could have been blown away by a gust of wind or a strong draft.

 

“Maybe you’re stronger than you look.” The Inquisitor objected. “And how do you know all this? That he was stabbed after he was already dead?”

 

“I looked?” I shrugged and moved closer to the corpse again. “There are signs on the body that imply that, the blood pattern, the wound itself. People in my world with special training and equipment can learn a lot of information from a corpse. Like when the victim was killed, how and even uncover some details about the killer, about his or her appearance for example.” I sighed. “Unfortunately, I’m an amateur at this. I wish I could tell you more. I’m no medical examiner or even a doctor. Well, I am a doctor, but not that kind.” Yeah, I could stick my doctorate up in my arse now. Truth be told, it wasn’t particularly useful back home either, I hadn’t done anything with it. I never had the time or the desire to continue my scientific career or to publish something.

 

“I’m not even a fucking criminal detective. Far from it, actually. I do enjoy good crime fiction though. Sorry, I’m rambling.” I pulled myself out of my reverie and cleared my throat. “Anyway, these bruises on his neck? You can even see the marks that were left by the fingers.” I placed my palm on said marks to demonstrate. “The murderer’s hands were much bigger than mine. And much stronger.”

 

“And, for the record,” I said, squeamishly wiping my hands off on with the hemline of my nightgown, “If I wanted to kill him, I would have done a better job at it. I wouldn’t hide the murder weapon under my bed, that’s for sure. I’m not that stupid.”

 

“What about the witness?” Cassandra asked.

 

“He’s lying or confused.” I paused, chewing my lip in thought. “Wait. You said the body was found on the battlements. I don’t remember neon lights or any decent lightning there. An occasional torch at best. How could he or she have given you a detailed description in the dead of night? Who was that witness?”

 

“Brayden. The other soldier you encountered near the tavern. The one with the scar.” Cullen clarified. _Scarface you lying son of a bitch_.

 

“And you believed him?” I asked. “Not sure if you are that naïve or just plain…” – I choked – “…naïve.” Commander seemed to catch my drift anyway and rubbed his neck awkwardly, blushing slightly. It was bloody adorable. Leliana coughed, suppressing a laugh, and hid her smile, putting her hand on her mouth.

 

“You have missed one very important detail that proves your innocence.” Leliana said, an amused smile playing on her lips.

 

“Maybe.” I hummed, going through the mental notes I made while examining the body. “I’m no expert as I have said….” Leliana chuckled lightly, and I realized she was laughing at me. I was missing something, something that was staring me right in the face…

 

_Oh crap_.

 

“I take it back. I am stupid.” I threw up my hands in frustration. “No, I refuse to believe that. There is some legitimate reason for this oversight. It seems that headshot did some permanent damage. I think I got a body with a manufacturer defect. I’m still half asleep. It’s cold in here, my brains are freezing. Or it’s the booze. Yeah, I blame the booze.” The Inquisitor joined Leliana, and started laughing too; although I had no way to tell if he was laughing at me or at my silly puns. How I could have overlooked it? It was so obvious. And I made fun of Cullen when I’m not any better really. “I give up. There’s no excuse. I’m an idiot, I must just accept that as an established fact and move on.” I sighed.

 

Cassandra and Cullen exchanged confused looks. They were completely clueless.

 

“Do you mind sharing with us what is so amusing?” Cassandra asked, arching her brow.

 

“She,” I shamelessly pointed a finger at Leliana, “placed me under surveillance. There were like three agents or whatever constantly watching me, following me around, creepy shit, let me tell you.”

 

“You noticed only three? I’m disappointed.” Leliana quipped.

 

“I’m stupid, you don’t have to rub it in my face, you know.” I frowned. It was utter bullshit though. I was one hundred percent sure - there were only three people on my tail that day. I could still count to three. Points for trying though, Nightingale.

 

“So these agents…they can account on your whereabouts this night?” Cullen suggested.

 

“And finally, Prince Charming catches up with the rest of the class!” I exclaimed. Commander suddenly turned bright crimson and coughed, choking on his breath.

 

Did I say it out loud?

 

I most certainly did.

 

_Блять._

 

I blamed the whiskey.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations:  
> Блядский ебанный стыд - Doddamned fucking shame  
> Нахуй так жить - Fuck this existance  
> Ладно, хрен с ним - Well, screw it  
> Вытрезвитель - a medical facility for intoxicated people, literally a "sobering-up station"

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Looking forward for any feedback, positive or negative!


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